The Netherlands

I feel a bit like I'm losing control again, but maybe that's due to my lack of sleep.

Friday morning I woke up at 6:30 am, threw some clothes on, grabbed my knapsack, and headed out of the door into the slowly-brightening day. After being whacked in the face with water by a man cleaning a storefront, I found myself half-asleepedly walking down fleshmarket close towards a bus that would take me to a bus. And that bus took me to the airport. And that plane took me to Amsterdam. I arrived in the airport, and had several men leer at me. I wandered through a bookstore, enjoying the fact that the books bore titles in a foreign language. I met up with my friend, Jacob, who is Dutch (we met 18 months ago on a summer study abroad program at Cambridge University). We said hello, and then boarded a train that took us into the city centre. We got lunch; I downed a few Belgian beers, and then we wandered through the city. I got my boot caught in the tram railing--and came just shy of being hit by a car. Later we wandered over to the main museum square, where Jacob convinced me to strap some ice skates onto my feet. They were orange and ugly, but nonetheless I managed to stand vertical.

In my opinion, I did a pretty good job. I think that the last time that I ever ice skated was when I was 8--maybe 7. I figured it out eventually; I liked going slowly though, so that I wouldn't fall. And yet it was very thrilling to rush along the ice. We then got dinner, and after dinner we wandered briefly through the red light district. Most of the men who inhabited that area of the city were rather brusque, grotesque, etc. and I felt squeamish by their very premise alone. I saw a man walk away from a whore towards his friend smiling and laughing and joking. I saw many large groups of men all congregated together, wandering down the alleyways and lewdly catcalling the girls.

Saturday evening we took a train to The Hague. Jacob showed me the Parliament, some other old buildings, a museum, the place where the peace talks/courts take place, an old prison, the most posh hotel in the Netherlands, and the tackiest square in all of the country. We then wandered down a boardwalk of sorts along the coast; he took me onto the pier, and we walked all the way to the edge. We climbed the stairs and at the top of the decks I could look away from the city towards Scotland. I was shocked how much I actually missed the country. I felt incredibly lonely in that moment. It was perfectly silent and still--behind me, I could hear the waves crashing against the earth; ahead of me the water lapped against itself and made little fluttering-like noises...like being in a bathtub, or something. I suddenly missed my friends and family, but I knew that they were very far away. I felt homeless, like a wanderer who didnt possess a place of origin. I felt confused; I felt lost. I felt inexplicable. Jacob said at one point that as a 'literary' student, shouldn't I be good at putting my emotions into words?

I didn't want to talk as we walked back down the pier and onto the sand. He silently led me up a path amongst the sand dunes to an old Nazi outpost--it was a small, insignificant boarded up tower with graffitti and little windows. I hated it; I didn't want to stay long in that space, so I clambered onto a wall and looked away, towards the ocean. I felt free, boundary-less. I fancied what it would be like if I never fell in love with someone; if I never got married nor had children. Would I be anchorless? Could I be a wanderer, always picking up my bags and moving on before I have the chance to let any one place really begin to feel like home?

Later we went to Utrecht, where I met Jacob's older brother, Thomas. We went to a party at the university. It was an American-themed party..and strangely, I wasn't homesick in the least. I'm slowly growing to detest the idea of moving back to the states. We left the party after 6am though, and slept in the train station until 7:30 am, when the train finally came. I slept on the train, and a bit more back at Jacob's place..and then I had to get back onto a train that would take me to the airport. And now I'm back again.

There and back again, really. I am utterly exhausted...in the past 35 hours I've slept maybe two hours. I feel exhausted, stretched out, and lost. Lost is the best word that I can think of to describe how I feel. Maybe it's because I slowly feel like I'm losing my grip, my control on my emotions.

Can love set you free, or can it just enchain you?

Random thoughts that have absolutely nothing to do about Scotland..

It has suddenly come to my attention that over the past few years I have lost a lot of myself. I have forgotten those things that one ought to possess, those passions that inspire us to keep breathing and taking one step forwards. I used to really enjoy studying karate and kung fu, and I used to horseback ride every week. Alas, after one too many scary incidents, I gave up horseback riding, and have not been back in a saddle in over two and a half years. I have allowed my anxiety to get the better of me, and because of it I have given up one of the most passionate activities that I have ever participated in wholeheartedly.

I am thankful at least that I have never given up writing (oh and reading). And so, i am going to continue writing, but I haven't really written any poetry in many weeks...so that is step number one...yes, to recommence writing poetry on a weekly (then perhaps daily) basis. I think that I've got the reading thing down pat, seeing as I read several novels and plays a week for class :) Oh! And I'd like to finally get around to writing some fiction, or something that leans towards the direction of that fearful word, The Novel. Yes, a novel. I've been wanting to be a novelist for as long as I can remember, and now that I'm 21..well, I don't see why I should keep putting it off anymore!

Another passion I have relates to movies and television...but of course I watch many movies and shows on a regular basis, so there that passion is usually fulfilled. Check.

The big one that comes to mind is horseback riding. I have allowed my anxiety to take ahold of too many aspects of my life. But I will no longer be a slave to my fears and disorders anymore! I am planning on going on a pony trail ride with a few other girls here whilst I am in Edinburgh. This will be the first step to regaining own of my favourite passions and hobbies. I don't know when I'll be able to continue riding again on a daily basis, but I know that If I trust in the gods above, things will work out like they're supposed to. I must merely take one step at a time, and my heart tells me to just simply go on a simple trail ride on a pony that is not much bigger than me, and then see what happens next...

Concerning the martial arts, I'm not sure whether or not I want to pick up where I left off. I enjoyed knowing how to defend myself, that is certain. It gives a woman a certain sense of security when she is walking alone at night to know that she might be able to perhaps ward off a potential attack(er). But I would not return to my old 'studio,' nor do I think I would continue with the same form. A fresh start? Perhaps USC has a club I could join?

Ah, I forgot another one...transcendental meditation. Last summer I learned how to meditate, and I am supposed to meditate twice a day for twenty minutes. I honestly cannot recall the last time that I meditated for even 5 minutes. I ought to start meditating at least once a day again; it will certainly help dissipate any lingering anxiety. Yes, this certainly shall be the next hobby that I pick up again. And it will be simpler to begin meditating on a daily basis than it will be to start riding again (as well as cheaper!).

The next thing on my list is..amusingly so...cooking. I would like to learn how to cook. I've started paying attention more to what my flatmates make, and maybe I'll gain some more courage to start cooking...even if it's as simple as making pasta or even assembling a salad. I don't really know why I become so fearful whenever I step into a kitchen. What...the fridge is going to attack? (Yes, if you've ever seen a certain movie).


Well, its 2am and I really ought to attempt to get some sleep. I've been fighting insomnia ever since I got here, over four weeks ago. Yikes, has it really been that long? Perhaps over the next few days I'll come up with some more goals!

Updates

It's been a while since last I posted anything...I got busy with school work, oh, and I caught a cold. I'm glad that it's just a cold because for the past week I kept waking up with headaches and felt nauseous; and I lacked any appetite. I also woke up a few mornings with vertigo, which is exactly what happened to me in the weeks preceding mono. I'm glad that I was only overreacting.

As a consequence, I've been spending a lot of time lying in bed and catching up on my homework--I need to finish reading Pamela by Samuel Richardson by monday, write a paper on James Thomson, read Hamlet, oh, and attempt to read Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy. Piece. Of. Cake.

I went to an improv comedy show last night. Long story short, the improv here is exactly like the improv back home, minus the difference of accents. Of course, all of the 'players' were British. I didn't catch several of the jokes because their accents were too thick, but I still found the night overall rather enjoyable. Afterwards I headed over with my friends to Rush, a pub that is in my flat complex. I did a lot of people watching--i find it fascinating to watch how men and women interact here. According to my deductions, most of the men here are just as masculine and puffed-up-rooster-esque as they are back in the states. A lot of the girls here wear dresses without tights; I have absolutely no idea how they don't freeze when they step outside. It has also come to my attention that many people here seem 'shy,' or at least, according to how I define the term. I mean, I suppose most people in most cultures aren't going to go up to people that they don't know, but still...most groups of people tended to stay within their respective groups, and only talked to their friends. Although this is perfectly normal, I feel like in the states people are a little more apt to meet new people...or perhaps I am merely reflecting my own interactions with people.


Hmm.

I went out with the Literary Society last Wednesday night. We saw 'The Road,' based on Cormac McCarthy's same-titled novel about a post-apocalyptic world. Afterwards we walked through the falling snow to a pub. Although I couldn't drink, I still enjoyed sitting and listening to the Brits talk. I enjoy listening to their accents; they really flow through my ears with more musicality than the American-accents I am more acquainted with. The group of people that I was with attempted to explain how the British government works, but alack! some of their accents were too thick for me to fully catch each and every word that spilled out of their mouth! (I made my friend Chris from USC explain it to me today, so no worries). I was surprised to find that the Brits knew more about American politics than me. I was almost embarrassed about this, actually, but then I realized that I don't ever really pay attention to politics...

At first the group of people seemed a little distant, but as time wore on, they warmed up to me a bit, and I felt more relaxed in tongue--the words fell out of my mouth with more fluidity than per usual; especially because I can be taken with shyness when in a group of strangers. But my degree of shyness has greatly decreased since being abroad, and this is mostly due to the fact that I am constantly out of my comfort zone, and thusly forced to interact more with strangers.

Well, this is possibly the lamest post ever. Oh well.